How Russian culture became essential for the world

From the Russian avant-garde to psychedelic art, from Swan Lake to son et lumiere, from great Russian literature to television and constructivist architecture, the world would have been missing out on an essential part of culture — and, in fact, be a totally different place — if it had not been for Russia.

Here is an astonishing fact about contemporary art: It was
actually invented by a Russian artist. In 1915, Kazimir Malevich painted his “Black
Square,” which became a symbol and emblem of avant-garde art for the world.
The work had an impact on all art movements, rather than on the plastic arts
alone.

“Make something a cultural fact that no one had thought of
before you,” is a concept that can be applied not only to Marcel Duchamp’s “Fountain”
in 1917, but even to Arnold Schoenberg’s musical theory of avoiding
recognizable forms and the mysterious silence of “4'33''” by composer
John Cage.

In fact, there are a good many other places it can be found — from
Dadaist Cabaret to the post-war Arte Povera.

Although Russian artists are not so prominent in a global
context, Malevich alone would be enough to acknowledge Russia’s contribution to
world culture.

Yet it should be noted that Vasily Kandinsky — a unique, self-made
artist who, at nearly 40 years of age, traded the pulpit of an economics
lecturer for a palette to become an abstract art founder and theorist — was
also active in the same time period.

The third great Russian nonconformist who fits naturally
into this constellation came to prominence a few years before the Russian
Revolution of 1917 and exited the scene a few years after it ended. Konstantin
Melnikov was recognized as the best architect in Russian history.

His life was
as interesting as the buildings erected to his designs. Coming from a large
family of a railroad trackman, he was lucky enough to be employed by a company
of a rich engineer on the recommendation of a janitor.

In just a year, his
patron had effectively adopted him; noticing the child’s unique talent, he let
him study with his own children’s teachers.

At the age of 15, Melnikov entered Moscow’s leading art
university, and, in the early 1920s, he became the city’s best-known architect.
He continued building until 1936, with every one of his experimental designs
creating a stir.

He rose to worldwide fame only to fall silent until his death.
He had been proclaimed a “formalist” by Stalin’s regime, which was a label akin
to a professional death sentence then.

Up until his death, Melnikov lived a
secluded life, producing architectural projects “for the desk drawer” in an
astonishing mansion in the center of Moscow — an unheard-of luxury in the
Soviet Union — designed in the form of two intersecting cylinders.

If you ask a well-educated foreigner what they know about
Russian culture, they will probably start by mentioning Russian literature of
the 19th century.

Europeans will most likely remember something
about Leo Tolstoy’s novels, while Americans will usually bring up Fyodor
Dostoyevsky — and keen theatregoers are certain to say a few words on Anton
Chekhov’s theatrical legacy.

Paradoxical as it may seem, Russian tradition completes the
list with two or three more seminal authors of similar magnitude who are far
less known in the West.

It is more-or-less clear with Alexander Pushkin, who in
the space of a quarter of a century almost single-handedly “translated” (or, to
be more precise, “adapted”) thousands of years’ worth of Western literature.

From
the Antiquity to contemporaries and the Russian cultural background, Pushkin
reshaped the established European genres to add some national features.

A recognized
genius in Russia, his work remains the epitome of language and style for
Russian readers, while it is far too dense to European ears: For them, a writer
that has managed to cram tens of different periods into one lifetime is curious
rather than impressive.

It is not so clear with the distinguished masters of satire
— Nikolai Gogol(“Dead Souls”) and Nikolai Leskov (“Lefty”).
Their works, rich in everyday scenes and psychological detail, preserve unique
national features mingled with suspense and are a path to a much better
understanding the mysterious Russian soul.

It is a path that only Russians
know, since, outside of Russia, their names are of interest only to scholars.

The main reason behind this could presumably be the very
structure of the Russian language, which is rich in syntax and morphology. Both
Leskov and Gogol extensively used play on words, and the sentences they
produced could make even Marcel Proust jealous.

Although their novels are adventurous
and thrilling in a good way, they lose much of their charm in translation and,
in a sense, pale in comparison to the likes of Jean Cocteau or T. S. Eliot.

Still, even if the best examples of the melodious Russian
speech are destined to fall flat on readers unless they master the language, they
can still enjoy Russian music.

Understandable to everyone, Pyotr Tchaikovsky’s
ballets and operas constitute an integral part of repertories used in leading
theatres from Sidney to Boston; connoisseurs appreciate the forefather of son
et lumiere Alexander Scriabin; while classical pianists cannot deem themselves
accomplished virtuosos until they have performed several works by Sergei
Rachmaninoff.

Among other things, Russia takes pride in its achievements
in stage productions (remember the Diaghilev Seasons). Regarding the
theory and practice of acting techniques, Mikhail Chekhov immigrated to the United
States and brought it to Hollywood.

Thus, essentially, all actors are now using
either the Stanislavski or Chekhov method. As far as cinematography goes, is
there really a movie fan who has not heard of Sergei Eisenstein or Andrei
Tarkovsky?

If we take a broader definition of culture, we must
remember that television was first invented in the ancient Russian town of
Murom by Russian-born inventor Vladimir Zworykin.

Even the psychedelic
revolutions of the 1960s and 1980s were, to a large extent, thanks to Alexander
Shulgin: an American chemist of Russian descent who is credited with the
discovery of the lion’s share of mind-expanding drugs.